...in which I am under attack.
I had a delivery tonight, just before sundown, to an apartment complex on Ruffin Road. I’ve been there before. It’s my understanding that this particular place had until recently been blacklisted by us; I guess we had trouble of some kind with them last year, but I don’t know the story. To me it was just another poor neighborhood, like so many in this part of Southside. The only thing that set this one apart before tonight was that the kids seemed to be completely unconcerned with traffic; they will ride their bikes and scooters right out in front of you as if daring you to hit them, and it takes a while to drive through the place.
Tonight I pulled up in the parking lot and got out carrying my bag. As I walked to my customer’s apartment three young boys saw me and started hollering “Pizza man!” They followed me to the apartment and waited downstairs while I delivered the food.
As I came back down the stairs they asked if they could have some pizza. I told them they would have to order some, and they asked how much. I said that we have many sizes and possible toppings so the price can vary quite a bit, but they could come back to the truck with me and I would give them a menu so that they could ask their folks to get them something.
Two of them dropped out on the way back, but the third came with me and I gave him a menu. I shut my door and got ready to leave, but suddenly the other two came back and I saw why they’d disappeared: they had gone to get all their friends.
There were at least fifteen of them, ranging in age from maybe six to about ten. They swarmed around Rosie, reaching in the windows, banging on the doors, demanding pizza. I said again that they would have to order some and started the engine. They wouldn’t get off the truck. They hung all over it, around it, behind it as I was trying to back out. When it became obvious that they weren’t going to move just because I’d asked them to, I started backing up, slowly enough for them to get out of the way, and they grudgingly did, but as I went they started to get angry. They were shouting and throwing rocks, and one of them began beating on the side of the truck with his scooter. This seemed to shock the others briefly enough for me to shift into drive and head for the exit. They chased me all the way out of the complex onto Ruffin. It was one of the most bizarre experiences I’ve ever had. I mean, it’s pretty routine for kids in whatever neighborhood to get excited when they see me, and even to ask me for food, but I’ve never seen them go Children of the Corn like that before. I am not sure what to make of it, but I can promise I won’t be going back to Ruffin Road.